


Everybody Fakes In Monaco

by justgotowisharder



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Cousin Incest, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddly Harry, Family Secrets, Famous Louis, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Overstimulation, Scared Louis, Sweet Harry, harry is his cousin yes, racer!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-17
Updated: 2014-06-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 12:20:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2150502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justgotowisharder/pseuds/justgotowisharder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry, you don’t love me,” Louis says in a low voice. “We... You're my cousin.”<br/>Louis knows he's playing dirty, because their family tie never stopped him from loving Harry.<br/>“But, Lou... I lost my virginity to you."</p><p>(Or the one where Louis is a famous formula one racer part of the Mercedes AMG team, Harry is his cousin, and they're too in love with each other to care about family ties)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Fakes In Monaco

**Author's Note:**

> I have been in Monaco and trust me, it's one of my favorite cities in the world. A perfect place for Louis and Harry to build their love nest. Hope you enjoy this!
> 
> ps. I don't think that falling in love with a cousin is actually wrong. Blame me.

Harry Styles has always hated the word _cousin_. It’s banal, its meaning doesn't say anything. It's a meaningless word because a cousin isn’t a sibling yet its part of the family, so you’re not supposed to fall in love with them.

He has heard the word cousin enough for a lifetime. When his mom talks about Louis, when Gemma talks about Louis; his own mind yells ‘cousin’ every time he drifts into his daydreams of being with Louis.

_Cousin._

When he lands in Monaco, Niall Horan is the one waiting for him at the airport.

Harry is a little relieved that Louis isn't the one picking him up because he’s still trying to figure out how he should act in front of his _cousin_.

The fact that Louis is a famous driver with a busy life and his face is printed on all the magazines isn't really helping, either. For God's sake, he's living in Monaco from all the places. Maybe the fame hasn't changed Louis at all, but Harry doesn't know it yet.

It’s true that they have spent months talking by phone, sending each other silly selfies that Harry won’t confess he still keeps in his camera roll; but it's not the same. He’s going to meet him face to face.

He might as well die of a heart attack.

Harry has always been a goner for his cousin.

 

 

☆

 

 

The chance of dying while driving formula one in the Monaco Gran Prix doesn’t really scare Louis Tomlinson.

He doesn’t have any reason to be scared, though. He’s a driver for the Mercedes AMG Petronas, considered one of the best formula one team. Don't forget the fact that he’s one of the best fucking drivers in the word, _thank you very much._

“I’m Pietro Domazzi, for Motor Sport Magazine. Mr. Tomlinson,” a journalist introduces himself, raising his hand to take his turn. Louis nods as his eyes slide by the conference room until they land on the corner, where Niall Horan is supposed to be sitting. Yet his Irish manager is nowhere to be seen. Only Liam is standing there, too deep into his cellphone to notice Louis. “Lorenzo Bandini died in the Gran Prix. What if you’re the next one?”

“Thanks for your faith, mate,” Louis teases and the crowd burst into laughter.

Press conferences don’t make Louis nervous, not anymore. Considering the success he has achieved the past years, he’s used by now to his sort-of fame.

Yet that particular day, everything is different.

He’s sweating and nervous as he has never been before. Even Zayn Malik, one of the best engineers from the Mercedes High-Performance section, who’s sitting by his side, notices how itchy Louis is.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to sound rude,” the journalist apologizes, polite. “I just think you’re being too optimistic, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis eyes at Zayn, who’s sitting by his side, staring blankly at the floor with an expression of obvious boredom printed on his face.

Louis knows that Niall will shit on them later because he wants the boys to be nice. He always tries his best, but knowing that he can be anywhere near makes his heart race and his mind turn blank. He can’t manage to make a sound.

“He has the best constructor team in the world,” Zayn answers for Louis and he loves him for that. Bless his best mate. “We’re supported by Mercedes. Why wouldn’t he be optimistic about the race?”

Liam has left his phone, finally looking up at the boys. He gives Zayn thumbs up, approving his answer.

Liam Payne, apart from being Zayn’s best friend, is a Mercedes-Benz agent, whose work consists on being a complaining rich ass who asks Louis to speak good things about the brand.

Louis takes advantage of the moment to take a subtle glance at his phone. He has no texts, no missed calls, fucking nothing. He sighs loudly, forgetting for a moment that he isn't alone.

He rises his head and fakes the biggest smile he can, swallowing up his nervousness. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Niall is back.

Louis’ heart tries to jump out of his chest as he tries to swallow the lump on his throat, nervous.

Niall brings him the image of a certain curly-haired boy who likes to wear the weirdest boots and who has twenty fucking matching tattoos with him.

Louis remembers him. When Louis says him, he means certain… Someone. Someone he shouldn’t be thinking, not in that way.

He can’t hold it anymore. He stands up and trying to be nice and cool about the fact that he’s leaving too early from a press conference, he says, “Well, gentlemen, now you should attack my friend Malik with questions. I have business to fix.”

Niall doesn’t make him stay that day. He doesn’t even rant about it; he decides to ignore the fact that Louis didn’t do the right thing.

“Well done there, Lou,” Liam praises him when the driver joins them, shaking his hand. He smells like expensive cologne, he wears Italian shoes and his shirt costs more than the car Louis drives.

“Thanks, lad,” he says kindly, then he turns to Niall. “Is he here?”

“Yeah.” Niall nods absent-mindedly, checking his Ipad. “Look, Louis, we have a photo shooting for GQ tomorrow and probably they’ll want you to have lunch in the Casino; maybe I can—”

Louis licks his bottom lip, paying no attention to his rambles. He doesn’t know why Niall is being such a brat about it, so he tries again.

“Niall,” Louis interrupts him, serious. He glances at Liam, who's staring at the Ipad screen, curious. The blond guy raises his eyes.

The driver is used to the fame madness, to the press game, to Niall's orders; but he isn’t used to his absence.

Silence rises above them. Louis holds Niall’s gaze, who’s probably trying to figure out why is Louis doing such a big deal of something as regular as a visit. Louis doesn’t explain, he doesn’t want to explain.

“He came alone,” Niall finally speaks out. “Her mother didn’t fly with him.”

Louis knows why Anne didn’t fly to Monaco. It’s the same reason that tore their families apart. Its Louis fault, as his mind doesn’t give him any chance to forget. He swore to never ever speak to him again; but life without curls, goofy grins, and bad jokes isn’t life at all.

“Can I ask you something, Louis?” Niall wonders and, this time, he’s totally out of character. He's just Niall, Louis’s good friend, not the annoying manager he pretends to be.

“Sure,” Louis nods while the voice of Zayn fills the hall, answering questions.

Louis bites his lower lip, staring at the floor, noticing how dirty his Vans are. Nobody would ever think he’s a fucking millionaire.

Niall doesn’t stay long in silence. “Louis… Maybe I shouldn't be asking this, but... Is Harry something more than just your cousin?”

“No, Niall. Of course not,” Louis answers, trying to sound cool about it. “We’re just really— close to each other.”

Close to each other, how dull it sounds?

“Ok. He’s at the hotel, waiting for you.” Niall asks no more questions, but the look in his eyes tells Louis he thinks otherwise about him and Harry.

He’s right, of course.

 

☆

 

 

Niall rides Harry to the Metropole Hotel, where Louis rented a room for him.

Harry likes Niall, he doesn’t stop talking about the Gran Prix and how awesome Louis is. Harry listens, nodding when he agrees and giggling in the right moments, and every time he thinks about Louis, his heart beats a little bit faster.

The hotel is fancy (too fancy for Harry's likeness, but he won't complain) and his room is exaggeratedly large for one single person. He doesn't let by the size of the bed, a perfect one for two people. It's embarrassing how fast Harry's heartbeats speed up when he thinks about it.

Niall leaves Harry alone in his room explaining something about a press conference that Harry doesn’t listen at all because his heart and mind aren’t letting him concentrate.

_He needs Louis._

It’s only needed his voice and his sudden presence to make Harry's breath get caught in his throat. Louis looks stunning, maybe more than ever. He’s wearing a tank top, exposing the words tattooed on his chest.

It is what it is. That simple sentence has been their philosophy since they realized that the word cousins didn’t exactly fit their relationship.

Louis looks gorgeous. Every piece of him is made up on haven; his features are the features of an angel, and Harry turns into a fucking sap when he thinks about it.

Harry wants to shout, to yell his name, but words don’t come to his rescue. Instead, he stares at his cousin and Louis stares back, blue meeting green for the very first time in the year.

“Harry,” Louis whispers for only Harry to hear.

Harry doesn’t think too much about it, he just runs towards him and hugs him, burying his face on the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. It feels like the right thing to do.

He grew taller than the older boy; he can wrap Louis completely with his arms now. Louis smells like car, toothpaste and just Louis’s scent, and Harry wants to cry because he didn’t remember how bright and beautiful life could be when Louis Tomlinson was at his side.

“Lou,” Harry mutters, his voice drowned. “Lou, I’m finally here.”

Louis giggles, pulling Harry back and breaking their long embrace. Somehow, it feels as if he was trying to put some distance between them, some kind of limit.

Fuck if there’s any limit.

There weren’t limits when they shared their first kiss. There weren’t limits when they shared their first time, so young and naive to actually understand what sex meant, but so sure about what they were doing, so safe in each other’s arms.

Louis’s eyes still shine with that special sparkle; that sparkle people always describe as pure love. Loving your cousin so much should be illegal, Harry thinks, and then remembers that cousins shouldn’t fall in love and he wants to laugh (or cry).

“I missed you so much, dork. You’re a giant, Harry,” Louis says, checking Harry out (which doesn’t make the younger boy blush, no, not at all). “I’m going to look like a dwarf if you keep growing.”

Harry giggles, his eyes watery with the emotion of being there. He really, really wants to kiss Louis, but he knows he should wait because he doesn’t know how Louis wants to carry on the… Thing.

They do their best to ignore what’s obvious between them. Harry pretends he doesn’t care, even when it feels like a stitch on his heart. It hurts to pretend he doesn’t love Louis with everything he has.

“This place—” Harry finally says, glancing around. It makes his breathing stop for a second; he's not used to be surrounded with so much luxury. He’s quite happy in his small flat in London. “It’s nice” Harry murmurs, trying not to sound like a poor boy that never got to see a luxury hotel room.

“The best,” Louis says softly, sliding his fingertips by Harry’s collarbones, “for the best Baby Doll.”

Harry giggles at the nickname, the one Louis used to say all the time when they were younger. He doesn’t loose the fondness in Louis’s face, but he ignores it. Louis is still a bit reluctant.

“Want a cuppa, Haz? Have been talking a lot in this shitty press conference, my mouth is dry.”

“Yup, please,” he nods happily. “Tell me about it. Just… Tell me about you. Want to hear about you.”

They chat while they drink their tea, happy and free about everything. When they're done with their teas, Harry can't fight his emotions and grabs Louis’s hand, linking their fingers. Louis purses his lips and sighs, shaking his head slowly.

“Doll. God, you’re so— Harry, why are you wearing your shirt like that?” he wonders, glancing at the half unbuttoned shirt.

“I like it,” Harry smirks.

"You should be careful, boys are going to flirt with you," Louis teases yet Harry doesn't know how much he's actually teasing. “And you’re mine.”

“Louis!” Harry exclaims and he can’t hide how pleased he is about Louis’s possessiveness. He doesn’t push the matter, either way, because he doesn’t want to make Louis uncomfortable.

“I’m joking, Baby doll.”

“I missed the pet name,” Harry confesses, blushing.

“I missed your pretty face,” Louis says, smiling. “Tell me about aunt Anne. Tell me about you.”

They keep talking about random things until Louis gets hungry and asks for room service. What begins as a simple brush of arms and sudden bumps between their legs, end ups being a cuddle on the couch.

Harry is happy. He can’t express how much it means to be there in Monaco with the only person he truly loves.

They ask for room service, incapable of leaving each other’s sides to go outside and have dinner in a fancy restaurant. They feed each other like a sickening couple and have a brief food battle.

What they don’t do even once, is to kiss.

And it’s killing Harry.

“This was a lovely time, thanks, young Harold. I’m so happy that you’re here,” he says, cleaning up the mess they made with their food fight. “Didn’t Anne and Gemma want to come?”

“They’re coming in three days,” he explains. “Didn’t want to stay in Monaco.”

Harry doesn’t want to say it out loud because he knows what Louis will think, yet he can't lie to him either. Louis reads him, anyway.

“Because of me. I get it.”

“No, Lou—” Harry wants to protests, but Louis shushes him.

“Don’t start, it’s fine. I know they hate that I’m paying for your hotel,” he hisses, a bit annoyed. Harry feels guilty about his mom’s attitude. Anne never accepted the love between them, even when Harry cried for days trying to explain that his life was meaningless without Louis. “I have enough money to give you the best and that’s what I’m gonna do."

“Thank you. But— Just… Don’t be mad at mum,” he asks shyly, approaching him. He rests his hands carefully on Louis’s hips, who flinches a little, but doesn’t get rid of his grip. “She doesn’t hate you.” He doesn't believe in his own words. “Can you sleep here? Like when we were kids?”

“I’d love to, Baby, but I can’t. I have my first practice this Monday, I need to be well-rested.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry nods and he tries really hard to hide his disappointment, but he fails.

“I hope to see you there.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, smiling smugly. “I came here to see you win, Tomlinson.”

“Hope your bets are on me, then.”

“Of course, they are,” Harry escorts Louis to the door. Before opening, he takes Louis’s hand and raises it to his lips, kissing his knuckle. “I love you."

Louis doesn’t reply right away, he just stares at Harry.

“Me too,” he whispers.

 

☆

 

Louis has always hated the word cousin, too. He never saw Harry as a cousin, even when they were too young to understand the real meaning of love. Harry was something more, something better than a cousin.

He was and still is his better half.

Honestly speaking, meeting him again caused on Louis a hurricane of emotions that he doesn’t really know how to handle.

They were so close when they were younger; Louis wanted to bring that closeness back. He found that closeness, plus the strong, unbreakable and undeniable love he feels for his cousin.

Not a regular love, nor a bit. The kind of ‘I love you and I want to marry you and wake up by your side every day of the rest of my life’ love. They kind of love he shouldn’t be feeling for his cousin.

The kind of love Jay and Anne weren’t happy about.

"Can you smile a bit, Mr. Tomlinson?"

Louis is brought back to reality when the photographer from the GQ magazine asks him to smile.

He tries his best, faking a large, unemotional grin; and even when he knows he’s shit on pretending, the photographer seems satisfied.

He’s bored as fuck and his mind is still struggling with the recent emotions, it's too hot inside the room and he's getting moody. The photographer is extremely annoying and insists Louis to pose like a supermodel.

"Are we done?" He asks, frustrated. "This is okay, mate, but I’m not an Armani model. I’m just a racer."

The journalist in charge of the interview, a thin blonde girl wearing a too-tight white dress, grabs her Ipad and types something.

"Armani asked you to be their underwear model, anyway; didn’t they?"

Louis stands up and pats the photographer’s back before meeting the journalist. He hopes the questionnaire is short because his humor is getting shitty.

"I said no," Louis answers while he follows the girl towards the stair that leads them to the terrace.

"Why?" She asks when they sit on a table at the terrace from the shooting placement, enjoying a perfect view of the French Rivera. The sun shines upon them and Louis would rather be somewhere else with Harry.

"I don’t want to be a sex symbol. I want people to know me because of my driving skills, not because of the size of my cock."

Louis stares at her, thoughtful. He wonders when she started doing interviews, she looks pretty young.

"What about the race? Are you nervous?"

Louis doesn’t want to sound like a prick, but he really wants to put an end to the interview.

"Hey, love, don’t take it personal, but if you’re going to ask me the regular questions, here you have the answers." He’s used to this, he’s used to the stupid personal questions for the gossip and fashion magazines. "I’m nervous because it’s a big deal; yes I’m proud of what I achieved; yes I’m planning to compete more than once; no, I don’t have girlfriend, I’m single and yes, I’m gay and I like it in the ass. Anything else?"

The girl stares at him shocked, with the hand standing half way to the Ipad and her eyes widely opened.

"Hum—," She says and suddenly starts typing as quickly as she can. Louis finishes his coffee, staring at her. When he’s ready to go, the girl stops him with a question. "Wait, Louis. What about Harry Styles?"

Louis freezes halfway the exit. His brain stops working for a couple of seconds and the air suddenly feels stuffy.

"What about who?" He asks, turning to her. He ignores the heaviness on his stomach.

"Harry Styles. A source of mine told me he’s staying at a hotel and you paid for him, your manager himself went to receive him at the airport and—"

"He’s my cousin," Louis cuts her, and his nonchalant and careless attitude fades away as soon as he speaks. "You don’t have any right to speak about him. Thanks for the interview and tell your source to fucking leave Harry Styles alone, got it?"

She nods, showing no sign of disagreement. Louis is glad.

 

☆

 

Harry hopes to meet Louis in the hotel lobby, but he meets Zayn Malik instead.

They have lunch together chatting about cars, boys and Louis. He invites Harry to watch the practicing race from his exclusive location, what Harry gladly accepts.

Harry likes how the city looks. The people get crowded in the balconies, trying to see the race that they aren't allowed to watch from the streets. There's a flood of excited tourist that only want to take a picture with the drivers. He also meets a lot of thin, tall blondes trying to catch the drivers on their webs of seduction, yet Harry isn’t worried about them because Louis is his.

Finally and without previous warning, Louis calls Harry, hysterically asking him something about a journalist, a girl from GQ magazine and some stuff Harry doesn’t understand.

"Lou, calm down, nobody asked me anything and I wasn’t followed," he says quietly, trying to calm his cousin. "You don’t have to worry; I'm not gonna talk about—"

He isn’t sure if he can say ‘us’ because he doesn’t know if Louis still considers them as an ‘us’. He feels his throat closing with the single thought.

"I’m just worried about you. I don’t want people to mess up with you, Kitten."

"I'm okay, I’m old," he growls, a bit frustrated. "I can take care of myself."

"I’d rather be the one who takes care of you," Louis says and of course, Harry doesn't smile like an idiot in love. Of course not. (Yes, he totally is). "Can I come over?"

"Of course, Lou. I thought we were going to be together this weekend but since you didn’t talk to me..."

Okay, that’s a low blow, but Harry is dying to make Louis notice how mean he was with him. Louis ignores the recrimination, anyway.

"I’m coming over. Ask for room service, Doll, I’m starving."

It feels awkward while they eat. They barely talk, which is weird on them; and Harry acts a bit distant. Once the food is done, Louis says something about their childhood, which makes Harry light up like the sun and recover his cheerful spirit.

Louis insist on watching Transformers 2 even when Harry finds it boring as hell. He accepts just because Louis insists and he can’t say no to him.

They collapse together on the couch, and Harry spends a good amount of embarrassing minutes 'accidentally' touching Louis with his leg until Louis says, "come here, you dork, let's have a proper night of cuddles."

When Optimus Primes 'dies' (Harry already knows he’ll survive because the plot is that predictable), he decides to take a shower. Louis barely pays attention to him; he finds really heartbreaking Optimus’s death and refuses to stop watching the movie.

When Harry comes back, Sam Witwicky is saving the world (again) and Megan Fox is keeping her white jeans incredibly tidy and her makeup flawlessly clean, despite being in the middle of a battle.

"This movie isn’t plausible," Harry mutters, snuggling against Louis. He’s half naked, only wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, but Louis doesn't seem to mind. "It's boring."

"Shut up. Nobody even knows what ‘plausible’ means, Harold" Louis argues and glances at his cousin, finding Harry's swallows tattoo. "Great swallows."

Harry looks down at the swallows on his chest, realizing that Louis hasn’t seen them yet. That makes him blush because Louis doesn’t know the story behind them, and he hasn’t noticed yet that birds don’t even have eyebrows.

Louis half closes his eyes, thoughtful. Harry feels his stomach twisting like crazy.

"Harry, those swallows have eyebrows?" Louis asks and gets closer to Harry. He reaches a hand up and slides the tip of his thumb by the lines of the swallow that represents Harry. "You’re such a weirdo. This one looks like you."

Someone is hurt on the movie, but Louis doesn’t care anymore. Harry’s eyes stare at Louis’s lips, those lips he has been dying to kiss since he arrived there. In a rush of bravery, he explains everything to his cousin.

"This," he says, taking Louis’s hand and guiding it to his bird, "this one represents you."

Louis opens his eyes widely. His mouth drops open when he notices the eyebrows and the eyes, the shapes and styles. Yes, one bird is Harry and the other is Louis.

"Harry," he whispers, stunned. He covers the swallow that represents him with his palm, and Harry quickly covers it with his big hand. “Harry, for the love of God… Harry Styles, what have you done?”

"You made those for me," Harry remembers, pointing the words in Louis’s chest and then at the tattoos on his left arm.

"Because you got those!" He yells, pointing Harry’s butterfly and then his ‘things I can't’ arm. “I didn’t choose a damn tattoo just because.”

"These have a reason," Harry growls, offended. "You and me. Birds are free; they fly, and they always come back home. You’re my home. I love you."

"Harry you shouldn’t have," Louis whispers gloomily. “Harry— we’re— family."

“Are we going to talk about that again?” Harry asks, and he would be lying if he said he didn't hate when Louis brings up the family subject, but he's glad that they're talking at least. “I thought you got over it. I thought you were here in Monaco to have a great time.”

“I am here to have a great time,” Louis nods. He sighs loudly, burying his face on his hands. Harry draw circles on his back silently, trying to calm his anxious mind.

The whole situation sucks. They haven’t talked about it since Harry arrived, but it has been always part of each other.

Since Harry was six, it was crystal clear that their relationship was far deeper than a brotherly love. They were dependent of each other, they bring the best of the other. The kisses flowed naturally, nothing had to be thought. It was what it was.

It’s the way the love each other.

“Lou, I know you are here for the race but, ” he says with a tiny voice, “Aren't you happy that I’m here? You invited me.”

“I’m aware of that,” Louis nods and leans in and presses a soft kiss to Harry’s swallow. “But since I left home, things have been— weird. I mean, we are cousins and now I’m a big racer, babe.”

Harry looks at Louis, heartbroken. His cousin can't do anything but link their hands together in a desperate attempt to feel him.

“You didn’t care about it when I was thirteen.” Harry knows how much Louis hates to talk about that particular thing. He brings it up, anyway.

“Don’t start with that, Harry. You know what I think.”

“It’s bullshit,” Harry says angrily. “I love you. I really do. I don’t care if you’re famous or if we’re family.”

“But, Haz, if when we were younger the problem was our family, now it’s much bigger than that.”

“Love can conquer all, doesn’t it?” he asks, genuinely believing in his words.

“Not always, Baby doll,” Louis sighs, defeated.

"You have no right to say that," Harry ends the argument, opening his arms to welcome Louis in them. "Come on, did you watch Optimus die and you’re not going to watch his awesome and unreal resurrection?"

Louis snorts at the question and quickly finds his place on Harry’s lap, resting his head against Harry’s chest, and Optimus Prime isn't interesting anymore.

 

☆

 

"Are you nervous?" Louis asks Harry, glancing at him by the corner of his eyes.

He's sure Harry isn't nervous. He's the one who feels like dying.

He isn’t too sure about the idea of being in the airport to pick up Harry's family. Louis loves them, Gemma has been nothing but a great cousin and Anne was great before she found out about Harry and him. That's the biggest elephant in the room: their relationship. 

Harry doesn't seem to mind a bit, though.

"Yes, a little," Harry nods, glancing at Louis. His cousin quickly intertwines their fingers, holding hands in the middle of the airport, where everyone can see them.

It feels nice when nobody knows they’re cousins, so they can pretend they’re just a regular couple of boyfriends in love. He likes to pretend they’re husbands waiting for their children to arrive at home; husbands coming back from their honeymoon.

It always surprises Louis how much he loves the idea of a future with Harry.

He’s aware that he was the one who has done the first move, the one falling for Harry so hard, and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Years ago, when they were so young and they knew nothing about love, years ago when— when they become one, when Harry gave Louis his virginity…

Louis still gets chills when he thinks about it. Having his cousin so open, so close to him; it made him feel so fucking... Full. Happy.

Harry has that power of turning his world upside down, making everything easier yet complicated at the same time.

"Everything will be okay," Harry assures, squeezing his cousin’s hand. It’s so amazing, the way they can easily guess what the other is feeling with only a simple glance.

"I know,” Louis lies, his mouth dry. “I miss Gemma."

"She thinks you’re gonna win," Harry points out, smiling at Louis with his dimples showing. "I do, too."

It’s the way they love each other, so pure, in such an innocent way. Louis doesn't know how to explain it, and his worst fear is that Harry could wake up one day and discover that all his feelings were only an intense infatuation and not real love.

Louis doesn’t know how to live without Harry, honestly.

"Thanks for having faith in me," Louis mocks, glancing at the screen to check the flight state. It’s landed, finally. "What about aunt Anne?"

Harry shrugs. "She doesn’t talk a lot about you. But don’t worry, she will get over it."

"Get over what?" Louis asks even when he knows the answer, just because he likes to hear it.

"The fact that I’m in love with you."

The boy is so young, so innocent, yet the way he talks about love seems to be so… Mature. Louis allows himself to think that maybe Harry really loves him. Maybe.

The feeling doesn’t help to his twisting stomach. Louis feels like throwing up. It’s insane, he shouldn’t be this nervous when meeting his aunt; she’s his aunt, Christ.

“Haz,” he speaks with a weak voice.

Harry looks at him and he’s so happy, so hopeful about meeting his family.

Louis is aware that he’s the one breaking that beautiful relationship. He doesn’t want to ruin what Harry and his mom has, yet he knows that being with Harry ruins it all.

Just like he ruined his body, his mind and—

“I can’t do this, Haz,” Louis chokes, trying to hold back the tears. “I’m so sorry.”

Louis turns around and runs away, ignoring Harry’s pleas. He will be fine; he has his mom and sister. Louis isn’t too sure about himself.

 

☆

 

 

Louis’s practice day was, by far, the worst he had in years. He was bad, he did terribly and he knows it. He ignores the way Niall looks at him, ignores how mad Liam is.

He ignores everything, looking for a gasp of air and the pleasure of a cigarette, hiding in the loneliness of his hotel room. The only one who joins him is Zayn.

Louis lets him because Zayn is decent enough to share a joint with him and speak no words, knowing that Louis needs to order his mind and thoughts before putting in words his feelings.

“From one to ten,” he manages to say in a low voice. “How much Niall and Liam hate me?”

Zayn chuckles at the question, rolling his eyes. He’s wearing a dark outfit that makes him look more like movie actor from the Golden Age and less like an engineer.

“They’re not mad,” Zayn explains idly, taking a drag. He stands there, with his gaze lost in the distance, the smoke of his cigarette surrounding him. Louis wishes he could look as good as his friend. “They’re worried. You look like shit, honestly, and your performance out there told us that something is wrong with you.”

“Maybe,” Louis nods, hesitant. “It’s—” he stops talking in the middle of his sentence. Nobody but him knows about his feelings for Harry.

He's especially careful and keeps them to himself because he knows what means to admit it.

If he speaks about it, everything becomes much more real and harder to run away from.

“It’s...?” Zayn inquires, arching an eyebrow.

“My cousin.”

“Harry?” Zayn asks, putting special effort on being cool about it. Louis thanks him for that. “I met the kid. He’s a nice lad, quite fit.”

Harry is really fit, but that's none of Zayn's business. Actually, Harry’s prettiness only concerns Louis.

“He’s fit. He’s gorgeous and incredible… And he’s also my cousin.”

“Lad,” Zayn says. He throws his cigarette to the floor, pressing the tip of his shoes over it. “Let the kid fuck some pussy here. Expensive ones.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Louis says, rude. “You don’t know Harry. He’s— special.”

“You mean gay?”

“Well, yes, he's gay; but I meant it in a different way. You don’t know how beautiful he is, Zayn.”

“Whoa, somebody has a crush on his cousin,” he teases, winking at Louis.

“I don’t,” he quickly denies, even when he knows he’s blushing like an idiot. "Or I do.”

He’s expecting Zayn to sit in front of him to preach him about how disgusting is to be with a relative, how fucked up Louis is for being in love with his cousin.

Zayn does none of that. “He has the biggest crush on you too, you know?”

Louis doesn’t help to grin. “He does?”

“He speaks about you and his face lights up like the fucking sun,” he explains and Louis loves to hear it. He loves when people notice the love they have for each other. “Lad, it’s okay. He’s not your brother, it's not that bad.”

“It's not that bad?” Louis repeats and he loves Zayn for trying, but he needs to open his eyes. “My aunt hates me. I can’t even face her because I feel so fucking… Guilty. I took his son’s virginity. Zayn, for fuck’s sake, he’s my cousin.”

Once again, Zayn proves how strong their friendship is when he doesn’t say anything about the sex matter.

“Think about this,” he tries to explain, picking up the right words to say. “It’s hard for your aunt and probably for your mom, too. It's hard for the family. But at the end of the day, it’s only you and Harry. If you two are happy and love each other the way I think you do, don’t let it go to waste.”

 

☆

 

Zayn is right. He’s fucking right about everything he said.

The words echo inside Louis’s mind while he cuddles Harry closer. The final race is just around the corner and Louis hasn’t been doing good handling his nerves. That’s why he looks for comfort in Harry’s arms.

The way his long fingers slide by his skin, the way Harry kisses his head… It all makes Louis feel absolutely relaxed.

In moments like those, he doesn't really care if Harry is his cousin.

“How was your day, Lou?” Harry asks softly, breaking the silence.

“Hum… Fine,” Louis whispers and he seems reluctant, as if he was trying to say something but he didn't know how to say it. “No. Actually, it was shit.”

“I'm so sorry,” he whispers, squeezing his hand. Louis returns the gesture. "Why?"

"Nothing."

Harry purses his lips, confused. “Are you… Mad at me?”

“Fuck, Haz, of course not,” Louis denies. He feels so worn out; fighting with his feelings is way more exhausting that any kind of practice.

“I thought you… Were mad at me because I asked you to come with me to the airport,” Harry speaks about it with no hesitation. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you—“

“Baby doll, it’s fine,” Louis cuts him, quietly. “It’s not your fault. It’s me the one who’s weak.”

“You’re not weak,” Harry says, kissing Louis's temple. “You’re just overwhelmed by… This.”

“I guess so,” Louis nods quietly. They remain silent for a couple of minutes, lost in the tender caresses and the unspoken words of love.

Harry knows he’s creepy staring, but he can’t help it. There are times when Louis’s body wraps Harry in some kind of weird warmth that burns his insides, driving him insane, making him want and need his cousin in ways that aren’t really acceptable for a family.

Every bit of Louis’s body asks for Harry to touch him, to kiss and caress him. He has to put the best of him not to fall over the edge and end up snogging the shit out of Louis

“Okay, I think I have to go,” Louis finally says after a long time of silence, of Harry staring at him. “I did bad at practice today and… I kind of need more sleep to get better.”

“You did bad? Lou… What’s happening? Can I help you?” He tries to hold Louis from his wrists, but the boy is quicker and escapes from his grip.

“Look, Doll, I’m really happy to be here.” Louis talks with a soft voice while Harry stands up, standing face to face. “But…”

“Don’t start with the ‘buts’,” Harry cuts him, already knowing what’s coming. Louis doesn’t reply right away. He licks his lower lip in a desperate attempt to calm the sensations that are exploding inside him.

“Baby, we have to forget it, okay?” Louis asks, rising his cold eyes to him. “Forget it. We’re cousins, it doesn’t matter how… How much we— like each other.”

It feels like shit hearing it, because he’s quite aware that he doesn’t just like Louis.

“You talk a lot of bullshit,” Harry replies, honest. “I don’t like you. I love you, and you know it.”

“You don’t love me, Haz,” Louis insists, stubbornly. “You—”

“Shut up, okay?” Harry pleads. He closes the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Louis’s waist. Their mouths are barely brushing, and Harry knows he doesn’t have the guts to kiss him. "You know nothing. Nothing about my feelings, Louis Tomlinson."

Harry's voice makes it obvious that he's a little mad at Louis, but the boy quickly wash it off with a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m happy you are here,” Louis whispers with a weak voice, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.

The older boy remains motionless and silent for a long, long time, staring at Harry. He sits down on the edge of the bed, actually hoping that Louis joins him, but his cousin does none of that.

“Bye, Haz,” Louis whispers before turning around and walking away, closing the door quietly behind him.

You get used to it, Harry thinks when Louis is gone.

You get used to lie and hide your love; you get used to pretend to be disgusted by the idea of being with a relative when you actually lost your virginity to your cousin.

Harry got used to everything, but he can’t get used to having Louis so distant. He can’t get used to a life where Louis isn’t his everything.

He has never been embarrassed when he talked about Louis with his mom and family. It’s just part of him; he’s used to talk about Louis as he talks about the weather.

Yet as much as he tries to hide it, his love for the boy always finds a way to be shown.

Anyway, when he talks with Anne he does a pretty good job pretending to be all happy and proud of Louis because he’s family and not because he’s the damn love of his life.

Harry falls asleep, lost in his own desperation; only to be awoken by a knock on the door.

It takes him a couple of minutes to remember where he is and why he feels like shit. Grumpily, he stands up and goes to open the door a bit sleepy, expecting to find someone from the hotel staff, but he finds Louis instead.

His cousin doesn’t wait invitations; he goes straight to Harry’s arms, whispering nonsense and desperately touching Harry’s body, as if he was trying to check his actual existence.

“Fucking shit, Doll.”

Louis stands in his tip toes and looks messily for Harry’s lips. He gasps into his mouth before joining their mouths in a rough kiss.

All the feelings, all the sensations, all the vibrations in Harry’s body are still there.

When Louis presses his lips against his, it all seems to explode. All the fire inside him suddenly burst into flames and burns Harry from head to toes, blazing his veins and turning on all his senses.

“I missed this so fucking much,” Louis gasps, breaking the kiss.

Harry tries to smile, but his mind is still trying to process what has just happened. The older boy closes the door and holds Harry’s hand, leading him to the bed.

“Me too,” Harry whispers, approaching to his cousin, nibbling his lower lip. He wants to do nothing but get drunk with Louis’s taste. “God, Lou. Why did you come back?”

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” Louis asks in return, both collapsing on the bed. Harry stares at his lips, swollen and reddish, wet with Harry’s saliva, a fact he loves because it’s something that marks Louis as his.

Harry has his hair plastered to his face and his lips are puffy, yelling to be kissed again.

“You didn’t seem to want a kiss,” Harry mutters, flushed.

“Baby Doll,” Louis says and his usual loud voice sounds raspy and huskier. He clutches Harry’s chin with his hand and leans into give him a quick kiss, “you don’t have idea.”

“I thought you hated me or something,” Harry confesses and he hates himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut. He’s always babbling the truth like a five years old boy.

Louis laughs bitterly and shakes his head. He presses a kiss to Harry’s lip, snuggling closer to the boy, who holds him tightly. Their bodies fit so fucking well into each other.

Harry can’t believe that he’s hugging and kissing the love of his life; how intense everything feels with him.

“Kiss me again.”

Harry won’t say no to the invitation. He sucks into Louis’s mouth like a desperate man, trying to get drunk with his taste.

He rolls on to be on top of Louis, still kissing him, sucking his neck to make a bruise there, to mark him as his.

When Louis makes a needy moan, Harry feels his crotch tightening. Louis turns him on with a speed that’s embarrassing. Yet he doesn’t go any further because he doesn’t want to ruin the moment and freak Louis out.

He breaks the kiss and goes back to bed, letting the older boy spoon him as he did so many times before.

“Lou?”

“Tell me, Harold,” Louis whispers, kissing the back of his neck. Harry feels all weird and happy on the inside.

“I’m so sorry for what happened at the airport. I… I wish my mom could understand,” he says out of the blue. “Life is ugly sometimes.”

Louis buries his face on Harry’s neck, breathing into him. Harry feels so small and protected on Louis’s arms, he wishes the night to be infinite.

“Yes,” Louis murmurs, trying to keep his mind focused on Harry’s scent and not in the fact that his heart is pounding inside his chest and his hands are starting to get clumsy. “Yes, life is ugly. Life is fucking unfair.”

The young boy feels all loved up and warm inside. He turns around a bit in order to stare at Louis intently. The older boy steals a kiss from his lips and cuddles him impossible closer, limbs tangled and hearts melting inside their chests.

“Lou,” Harry speaks softly, almost as a murmur. “I love you.”

“Stop it, Doll, please. You don’t love me,” Louis replies, defeated. “You are infatuated with me." The younger boy ignores how bad it feels to hear those words, but he doesn’t interject. He knows Louis needs to speak out his feelings. “We enjoy each other's company and we're pretty touchy and you like to cuddle and I don't mind. But it doesn't mean that you love me.”

Harry always gets those kinds of speeches from Louis. He honestly doesn’t know what he needs to do to make him understand that he loves him, truly, from the bottom of his heart.

Somehow, Louis is trying to build a wall around him, avoiding Harry to know his real feelings. It makes Harry feel a little lonely.

He doesn’t understand why. Or yes, he does, but he rather keeps it on the bottom of his brain.

“But—” Harry insists, using his last weapon. “Lou, I lost my virginity to you.”

That’s probably one of the memories Louis seems to hate the most. It makes him feel guilty, because Harry was only thirteen and he was so willing to do whatever Louis asked for, even having his first time with him.

It wasn’t something bad for Harry; he has only had sex with Louis and he is honestly the only person Harry trusts enough to let him do whatever he pleases with his body.

“Don't bring that up. Don't be an arse,” Louis asks and turns off the lights. “Someday, when you find a great boy to take care of you and give you everything you deserve, you will thank me.”

“I won’t meet someone else,” Harry says as a matter of fact.

He waits for Louis to spoon him, as he always does. He waist for Louis to wrap him with his arms, to press kisses on the tops of his head. He waits for something that never comes.

"Good night, Harry," Louis says before he falls asleep.

Harry doesn't sleep a wink that night.

☆

 

Monaco is too glamorous and too full of pretty guys for Harry to stay in bed all day.

It doesn't matter how many calls Louis ignores or how many texts he doesn't reply; Harry decides that staying in bed is something unacceptable.

After having breakfast with his mom and sister, he decides to go for a walk by the port and the Yacht Club, the sea breeze caressing his body, dancing with his curls.

There are millions of tourists with their big cameras, lots of pretty girls whom seem to have eyes only for the racers. Louis's name is in every mouth, he's the youngest and greatest promise of Mercedes.

Hearing his cousin’s name creates in Harry a mix of pride and pain. He's so proud of him, he wants to scream it everywhere; yet at the same time, there's this unspeakable pain of being ignored by Louis and not be able to call him his.

"Nice fedora, kid."

Harry is sitting in a coffee store by the beach when a middle aged guy talks to him completely out of the blue. Harry takes off his (not his, Louis's) aviators and looks at him.

"Thanks," he thanks quietly.

"Nice voice," he keeps complimenting and Harry blushes because Louis is the one who tells him how beautiful his voice is. "I'm Ben."

"Nice to meet you, I guess," Harry answers quite awkwardly. "I'm Harry."

"You're a pretty one, Harry," Ben says to him and suddenly he's sitting at the same table, asking the waitress for a Martini. "Are you here for fun?"

Harry is about to explain that he's there for someone he loves but then reconsiders it. Considering the miserable stage he’s passing through, he should pretend to be single and carefree and just looking for sex.

"Yes, I'm here for the Grand Prix. Kind of."

Ben laughs at the comment, so loud and manly that gives Harry chills. Not the good ones, though, not the chills Louis causes on him.

"God, your voice is so fucking deep. Tell me, Harry, are you single?"

"Are you?" Harry asks back, arching eyebrows.

"No, I'm married, but I always have time for fun," he says and winks at Harry.

He's fucking disgusting, Harry thinks. Older men who look for young boys to fuck are sickening for him, much more if he’s married and pretending to be straight. God help his kids, if he has.

"I'm not interesting in making your wife's life miserable; thank you," Harry kindly denies the offer Ben is not giving openly, but he's making clear with his actions.

"I have a lot of money," he points out, sipping his Martini.

"I'm not a fucking whore," Harry says a bit angry. He doesn't look like a whore (does he?) and he absolutely hates people who are so disrespectful with his own family.

"I never said you were one," Ben says quietly and moves his hand so it's grabbing Harry's. He tries to pull back, but Ben holds him tightly. Harry is starting to get nervous. "I'm just saying that maybe you could get something pretty from me if you show me what your mouth can do."

"I told you, I'm not a fucking whore," Harry yells, getting rid of Ben. He stands up quickly, feeling ashamed and angry at the same time. "Plus, I'm committed to someone else. Someone I really love and makes me happy, not the way you make your wife happy."

"My wife is not your problem."

"Yes, she is. She is because you expected me to be the one to fuck her life."

"Stop with your ethical discourse," Ben yells at him, finally fuming like hell. People are starting to stare, but Harry is too angry to care. "Do you think I don't know who you are? People talk, you fucking stupid kid. You're the one who sucks Tomlinson's dick, that's why he pays for your room and your expensive shit."

Fuck. Harry's blood literally turns into ice, scared. He never talked to the press, neither did Louis; but if Ben knows, that means people is actually talking and they have an eye on them.

Fuck, that makes everything worse. If Louis doesn't speak to him because of their families, well, the whole country will tear them apart.

Harry can't function without Louis. It's as simple as that. He's ready to give up on being together if that means he will be able to keep him by his side, at least as a mere cousin.

"He's my cousin," he mutters quietly and Ben laughs again with that sarcastic and bitter laughter of him.

"You're the one ruining a family, then. Go away, fucking cock slut."

Harry pays and runs away from the bar with the tears streaming down his face.

He doesn't want to be called a whore, he's not a whore; he never had sex with anyone except Louis. He doesn't want to be told that he's ruining a family; he has only fallen in love, is that so fucking wrong?

"Harry, hey."

Gemma's voice answers from the other side of the phone happily as soon as Harry calls her.

"Gemma, I'm a whore? I'm ruining the family?" He sobs uncontrollably while he gets in the car Louis rented for him.

"What? Harry, what the hell?"

"I hate myself, Gems." Harry cries, his body shaking with the sobs he’s not trying to contain. His chest feels oppressed; all the feelings he has tried to control are starting to suffocate him. It's too much for him, he can't fight against his feelings. "I try to, but I can't help it. He's... He's my entire world."

Gemma remains silent at the other side of the line. For a brief second, Harry thinks she’ll ask questions and be a bitch about it. She doesn’t, in the end.

“Don’t try to tell me you aren't talking about Louis,” Gemma says, getting straight to the point. Harry’s blood turns cold as ice and his heart stops for a minute. “I’m not stupid; I can see how you two treat each other. Yours isn't a mere cousin-brotherly love,” she mutters more for her than for Harry to hear. Harry doesn’t react because he doesn’t know what to say. They never spoke about it before. “Look, Harry, I’m not mom and I’m not going to preach you about this. I know that fucking a cousin is like— a normal fantasy, but it isn’t right.”

“I love Louis,” Harry makes it clear, trying to get his self-control back, “it’s not a fantasy. I have been in love with him since I understood the meaning of love.”

Gemma sighs, Harry can picture her burying her face in her hands.

“I fucking knew it,” Gemma mutters. “I knew it. Just— I don’t know about Louis. Try to be the less hurt as you can, babe.”

“You’re assuming I’m going to be hurt,” he whispers, amazed. He doesn’t believe Louis could ever hurt him, at least not on purpose.

"I don't know. Yours is a complicated thing. Mom is in denial, she's always saying how much you two are like brothers. And aunty Jay—"

"She hates me," Harry babbles out between sobs.

"She's confused. This isn't a regular thing, Haz."

"I know."

They remain silent for a while and that's all Harry needs, his sister being supportive of the only thing that makes him truly happy: Louis.

"I'm buying macaroons at Laudreé, wanna come?"

"Sure, I'll be there in five."

"Great," Gemma nods slowly, "and Hazza: you're not a whore. You're just deeply in love."

 

☆

 

Qualifying day and Louis hasn't spoken a word to Harry yet.

There’s only one day left to the final competition and the only thing Harry got from his cousin was a big breakfast he sent to his room.

Harry is still recovering for the words that Ben told him. It’s difficult for him to get over it, because his mind tricks him into believing that yes, he’s a whore and he’s ruining the family.

Why is love so complicated?

The streets of Monaco receive the Formula One cars and drivers. Perfume, umbrellas, sunglasses and expensive dresses are all over the place. The streets that are part of the circuit are closed to the public yet the people find their places around them, on balconies and bars.

Harry meets his sister and mom in a coffee shop terrace, where they can easily see the race. People are chatting and Harry can hear his cousin’s name here and there, ignoring the tight on his chest that happens every time he does.

 

_Good luck for the race. I love u, always xxx_

 

Anne doesn't shut up about how dangerous the race is and all the possibilities Louis has. Before the race starts, Jay calls Anne to tell him that the whole Tomlinson family is staying in Cannes for the race.

“Wow, that’s great,” Harry answers when his mom tells him about it, happy for Louis. He needs his family’s support. He always has, he’s the biggest mamma’s boy, as much as he wants to deny it.

“It’ll be good for Louis,” Anne nods.

“It seems that Dan loves Louis a lot,” Gemma comments idly, eyes locked on her glass of juice.

“You can’t ‘not love’ Louis,” Harry says without thinking, biting his nails.

“Actually, he can be a proper dick. You’re saying that because you lov—” Gemma stops talking when her mother glances at her. Harry, feeling his cheeks burning, feels his phone buzzing on his pocket and thanks life for it.

 

Thanks, h. you’re my lucky charm. I love u too x

 

If the message makes Harry smile like a teenager in love, he doesn’t want to hide it.

 

☆

 

Harry doesn’t understand about cars and races, but it seems that Louis did excellent on the qualifying day, getting his place in the final race.

Louis doesn’t wait a minute until he’s calling Harry and they’re both driving around for a while, enjoying the glamorous streets of Monaco.

They chat about their families, the race, the previous winners and everything in between. Harry loves how happy and thrilled Louis looks; it’s so easy to forget about the days he spent without hearing a word from him.

It must be difficult for Louis, Harry thinks.

They finally park somewhere by the cost, they walk by the harbor, hand on hand, and laugh about the expensive yachts and the money people spend on things that don’t matter.

“I’m sure having a yacht must be fun, anyway,” Louis says. They sit on the harbor, the stars shining in the sky.

The Prince’s Palace of Monaco is lighted up, glowing on top of the mountain, overlooking the port and the Mediterranean.

Everybody fakes in Monaco, Harry thinks; finding in material and expensive stuff the joy they can’t find inside themselves. It’s kind of sad to think about it, actually.

“Lou.”

“Yes, Doll?” Louis replies softly, still holding Harry’s hand.

“You know that our family is here, right?”

Louis turns a bit stiff at the question yet he quickly answers, “Yes, I know. Mom called me.”

“We all want you to win.”

“Thanks,” Louis whispers, trying his best to avoid looking at Harry.

“It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Louis rolls his eyes and tries to hide a wide smile. “Shut up, you sap.”

“I love you,” Harry mutters, making puppy eyes at Louis. He chuckles and stares at his cousin silently before leaning into kissing him on the lips.

“Lou, baby. There’s… another thing.”

“What?” Louis asks, frowning. “What’s wrong, love?”

“Hum…” He licks his lips, hesitantly. He isn’t sure if Louis really wants to know what happened the other day with Harry and Ben, but Harry doesn’t want to have secrets between them. “The other day… I fought with a man. He called me… names.”

“Names? Did he mock you for being gay? Who was him? I want to—” Typical of Louis, already planning a murder when Harry tells him that someone hurt him.

“No, Lou, don’t worry. Just… he called me your whore.”

“Whore?" Louis repeats on awe. "That’s bullshit! Really? Haz,” he says angrily. He interlaces their hands together, in a desperate attempt to comfort his boy. “You’re far from being a whore, that’s for sure. You’re…”

“Louis, am I ruining the family?” Harry cuts him, tears already wetting his eyes. “Am I doing wrong loving you? I don’t know how to control it.”

Louis quickly holds Harry in his arms, who snuggles against his body and curls into a small ball.

“Harry, it’s not only you,” he coos lovingly. “I don’t know how to control it, neither. I know people talk. I know they see how I treat you. Honestly… I don’t really care.” He explains with total honesty. “Whoever told that awful thing about you, Haz, don’t believe him. They don’t know us. This love is only ours.”

“I… Kiss me?”

Louis smiles fondly before closing the distance between them and kissing his cousin with a kiss made of pure adoration. “Let’s go back to the hotel, babe,” Louis proposes, kissing him again.

The car ride to the hotel is silent and peaceful. Once they arrive, Louis asks gently to the paps and journalists to leave them alone.

Without even thinking, he takes Harry’s hand and leads him to the elevator, dying with the hurting need to touch, feel and kiss his boy.

Once inside Louis’s room, they finally, finally have time to be together, to be free.

“Fuck,” Louis gasps, joining their mouths in a needy kiss. “I wanted to kiss you so bad out there.”

“I want to kiss you all the time,” Harry whines, his arms finding their place around Louis’s waist.

Their kisses become a bit messy; Louis’ sucks into Harry’s mouth, feeding him with adrenaline. Harry’s skin burns, he doesn’t want to have clothes on him anymore, he wants and needs to feel Louis.

His hands run down Louis’s spine to grab his ass. Louis gasps onto their kiss, pressing their hips together, rubbing his hard dicks briefly against each other.

"Louis," Harry moans, walking towards the bed, mouth against mouth.

He throws Louis on bed and Louis does nothing but stare. Harry has something on the way he moves when he’s like that, something that makes him be dominant with Louis.

Louis fucking loves it.

"I love you so much, Harry," Louis whispers huskily. Harry smirks but doesn’t approach him. He stands in front of the bed, eating Louis with his eyes.

“Clothes off, Lou,” he orders. Louis doesn’t argue.

They haven’t had sex since their first time; Louis feels as if he might explode if nothing happens that night. He enjoys the way Harry stares at him while he undresses, eating him alive with his eyes, dark with lust.

“You,” Harry pants, leaning down in bed to kiss Louis on the lips, “are so gorgeous. And mine.”

"Harry, sweetie, please stop," Louis begs between kisses, trying to push Harry away.

Harry doesn’t obey, at first, stubborn and too caught up on their sexual arousal. Yet there’s only needed one plea from Louis to make him stop, even when the need for him is eating him alive.

"Lou, I want it," Harry murmurs in a husky voice and tries to steal a kiss from Louis's mouth, yet Louis moves away him. The younger one frowns, licking his puffy lips with his tongue, tasting Louis’s saliva on them.

"Harry, I'm not gonna do it," Louis mutters and his voice makes it clear how hard he's trying to control himself. They breathe into each other, and Louis's mouth is so, so close to Harry's, but he doesn't kiss him.

"Lou—"

"No, Harry, you don't understand!" Louis exclaims, pushing him back. "I took your virginity once, I don't want to—"

"Was it that bad?" Harry asks a bit teasingly, just trying to see his reaction.

"God, no, it was the best fucking night I ever had, even when we were so young. I felt so— Close to you."

"Then why?" Harry insists and leans forward to kiss Louis, who doesn't reject him this time, letting the boy taste his mouth. "Why you don't want to be with me?"

"Harry, being with you is one of the things I want and need the most in this fucking life," Louis whimpers, and his voice sounds like a plea, like a desperate beg for Harry to prove him wrong. "But I don't want to—"

"Louis, I chose you then, I choose you now," he says, deadly serious. He wraps Louis’s waist with his arms and bring him closer, putting kisses all along his neck. "I need every kiss, every part of your body. I never felt this connection with someone, never. It's just with you. I feel safe with you. I love you," he says softly and Louis is about to talk, so Harry rests his finger against his lips, keeping him silent. "If you don't want to do anything to me, at least let me be the one making love to you."

"Baby," Louis moans and Harry knows he just won the battle; Louis is giving up. "Yes, please."

"Thank you," Harry whispers in Louis's ear. He kisses them right there, soft and a bit teasingly, then nibbles his earlobe. "Lay down for me, would you?"

Louis is scared and Harry notices it. Every touch of his hands makes the older boy shake, every kiss tenses his muscles. Harry leans down to press a soft kiss to Louis's chest.

"I'm gonna make you feel safe, I won’t hurt you."

"I'm not worried about it," Louis mutters, lying down on bed, spread out like a damsel, his body exposed to Harry. "I'm worried about liking it too much."

Harry tries to hide the smirk on his lips. He settles on top of Louis, legs extended to each side, and his massive hands start caressing his chest while he puts open mouth kisses all along his body.

"You have been working out," Harry notices, sliding his fingertips by Louis's abs. "You're beautiful."

Louis moans as an answer, too lost in his sensations to be able to say anything rational. His glassy blue eyes are locked on Harry, his cheeks blushed and his hair messy covering his forehead.

"Just gym, nothing great," he whispers, unconsciously shoving up his hips a bit, trying to get any kind of friction.

"I don't want anyone else to touch you," Harry whispers hoarsely, moving a little to avoid Louis from getting friction. He’s a fucking tease and Louis loves him for that. "I want you to be mine."

Harry joins their mouths again, pressing their bodies together, hands caressing his lower belly. Louis's eyes flutter shut while Harry teases him and starts making little moans.

"Harry."

Harry is still on his clothes, and Louis hates it. He wants to be able to stare too, he wants to feel Harry’s warmth; but he knows Harry is the dominant now so he has no right to ask for anything.

"Lou," Harry mutters gently. His teasing hand starts stroking his tights, touch anywhere near his cock. "Can you come twice?"

"I don't know, Harry," Louis pants breathlessly. "I'm gonna come so fucking quickly, I hadn't had sex since—"

Harry shushes him with a rough kiss. "Let me blow you first.”

The mere image of Harry’s lip wrapping around Louis’s dick, makes his cock grow harder. He needs, he needs anything to be on his dick, whatever be Harry’s mouth, hand or ass. He fucking needs.

Harry loves to feel it, to feel the control he has over his cousin.

“Look at me,” he orders while he leans down, kissing Louis’s lower belly. The boy groans on pain and sexual arousal; every move of Harry is getting him harder. “I want you to look at me.”

Louis has to make extra effort to keep his eyes open because Harry is already licking the tip of his tongue and it’s sending him over the edge.

His cousin loves to tease him, to suck and kiss without touching, to play with his balls but not his cock. Louis reaches a state of stimulation that has him sobbing and pleading for something, and that’s when Harry finally wraps his dick with his mouth.

With a firm rhythm, he suck his cousin dick, while the older boy moans so prettily while the sweat on his face makes him look like a blissful disaster.

Louis shoves his hips up a bit, trying to fuck Harry’s mouth, causing him to choke. Apparently, it upsets Harry, so he drops his cock and raises up, looking straight at him.

“Harry, no, please—“

“You have no right to fuck my mouth, Louis,” he warns. Why is he sounding so dominant and so fucking lustful, Louis has no idea, but he loves it.

“Please?”

“Do you want it?” Harry asks again, making him wait.

“More than anything. Please, Baby, please.”

Pleased with the nickname, Harry decides to give him what he wants.

He sucks his coursing off excitedly, so eager to take him completely. When his tongue curls over the head of Louis's dick, Louis grasps Harry's hair and pulls from it, shoving his hips up and making Harry choke, who doesn't complain or says anything about it this time.

"'Gonna come," Louis gasps and Harry starts sucking faster, taking his cousin cock’s entirely without even growling at his size, until Louis is coming inside his mouth with a beautiful cry of Harry's name on his lips.

"Such a good boy," Harry praises him when Louis comes back from his high, his muscles relaxing on bed.

Yet Harry doesn’t give him a break: he wipes the excess of come from his lips, and then grabs Louis by his hips, lifting him up.

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"Gonna fuck you," Harry says, short of breath, and then looks into his cousin's eyes. "Got lube?"

"Yeah, in my suitcase."

Harry kisses Louis one more time before he sets him free. The petite boy goes straight to his suitcase, knowing that Harry is probably staring at his ass. He makes everything slower, because as much as he loves when Harry teases him, he likes to tease him a little as well.

It works right away. Harry gets impatient so he walks towards Louis and when he stands up, he wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him close and shoving him against the wall.

"I need you so much. It aches," Harry confesses and maybe probably he isn’t making any sense, but he needs his cousin so who cares. "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby."

Louis does as he's told, even when he's still tired and recovering from his orgasm. The younger boy makes sure that Louis is holding firmly from him to finally open the bottle and wipe his throbbing cock with a good amount.

Once it's done, he drops the bottle on the floor and grabs Louis by his ass.

"I need this so much. So much. You’re so pretty," Harry whimpers.

His rough and manly voice gets Louis hard again.

Harry quickly shoves a first finger inside Louis's ass, who growls at the intrusion. He buries his face on Harry's shoulder and waits a bit until he’s asking to add another.

"I love you," Harry babbles out and when he adds a third finger, Louis presses hard his mouth against Harry's skin in a desperate attempt to muffle his sounds. He presses his ass cheeks, trying to fuck his cousin’s fingers.

"Haz, fuck."

Harry curls his fingers inside him, trying to find his prostate, desperate to hear his moans. When he hits it, Louis whimpers like a desperate animal. He makes the filthiest moans when Harry is touching him, he always has.

Louis cock is hard again, Harry is sure it aches and he's quite proud of making Louis so worked up.

He removes his fingers and places his dick on Louis's rim, sliding his tip by it but not pressing in. The boy is breathing noisily and he's doing his best to hold tight there, against the wall.

"I love you," Harry says once again because it’s never enough.

“I love you too,” Louis says back, breathless. “Please, Doll, fuck me.”

Harry smirks naughtily and joins their mouth in a rough kiss as he pushes in. Louis feels Harry’s big cock inside him, his ass clutching around it, and the fucking feeling of fullness makes him absolutely drunk in pleasure.

"Fucking shit," Louis gasps, moaning loudly. "You are so big, Haz."

"I know," Harry gasps heavily, waiting for Louis's tight hole to adjust at his cock.

"Move," Louis pleads.

Soon enough Harry is shoving in and out in a messy rhythm; Louis cries Harry’s name, feeling much it hurts and how much he loves it.

Their bodies are covered on sweat and it’s getting difficult for Louis to stand right there. His ass stretching to take all Harry’s cock is the best fucking feeling in the world, he only wants more and faster and deeper.

It’s all _HarryHarryHarry_ , Louis has no forces even to breath. He feels his orgasm building up on his lower belly, pins and needles running down his spine. He wants to cry, a pulsating feeling inside his belly makes his body tremble.

"I'm dizzy," Louis mutters and Harry is dizzying too, shaky because the pleasure is too much. It's so fucking good and Harry is sure he will never find anyone who gives him that sensations.

"Gonna come."

"Fill me, Baby doll," Louis begs and right there Harry comes inside his cousin. Louis cries loudly, sore and sensitive, and when Harry is done he begs him to stop the pain and touch him.

"Love—" Harry gasps, working on Louis's dick. "Come for me, Lou."

Louis comes for the second time, and finally his body gives up and his legs loosen up their grip around Harry's waist, unable to speak, think or move. The younger boy catches him before he falls and carries him to the bed, where they collapse together and Harry quickly covers them with a blanket.

Louis shifts closer to his cousin, messy, sweaty and exhausted; Harry holds him tightly in his arms. He kisses the top of Louis's head and whispers, "Thanks, Lou."

"Me? Thank you, Haz," Louis corrects him, reaching for Harry's hand, linking their fingers. "You make me feel so— Great. So complete."

Harry smiles proudly and pecks him on the lips.

"You too," Harry says in a low voice. He remains thoughtful for some minutes and then adds, "Why? Why was life such a bitch and made you my cousin? I want to marry you."

"Harry."

"Lou, for the first time, can you be honest with me?" Harry pleads, and is the look in his eyes that makes Louis want to be frank with him.

He’s exhausted and probably needs to sleep for a year to recover from his orgasm. Yet he tries to take the last of energies he still has to answer his baby.

"I want to marry you too, Baby Doll," Louis nods and presses a kiss to Harry's chest. "I gave myself to you the day we first kissed. You’re more than a person I fell in love with… You complete me. You make me better."

Harry’s eyes turn watery. Louis knows he’s the sappiest of them all; and he loves him for that. He isn’t that good expressing his emotions, yet Harry makes it everything easier. It’s all overwhelming for him: the closeness, the feeling, the words…

Louis he cuddles him impossible tighter, and they tangle their legs and hands and they share the pillow because they can't stand the idea of being apart anymore.

"I love you with everything that I am, Harry Styles, and I'll do everything I can to be with you," Louis promises before closing his eyes and drifting into a deep and restful sleep.

 

☆

 

Louis knows he won, but he can’t process it right now. He can’t even hear the crowd yelling and clapping around him, because the adrenaline that runs though his veins are driving him crazy.

He won. He fucking won the Gran Prix.

His heart doesn’t stop beating crazily on his chest, and his eyes start running through the crowd, trying to spot his cousin. Zayn is next to him, holding his girlfriend and babbling about something Louis doesn’t hear.

Yes, maybe there’s Niall and Liam running towards him too and there are thousands of photographers and Mercedes-Benz managers who want photos of him and oh, there’s also the cup.

Yet Louis only wants that mop of curls and green eyes. He needs to hold Harry’s hand and try to get the idea that yes, all of this is actually happening.

Then he sees him. Harry running through the people, his lanky body pushing the people around him to reach his cousin. Louis’s heart makes the weirdest jump inside his chest. He leaves the helmet on the floor, running toward his cousin without even bothering to get off his uncomfortable racer outfit.

They meet on the fences; Louis quickly explains to the security guy who Harry is, asking to let him in. A bunch of security men finally can make Harry reach his cousin and when they meet, Harry jumps over Louis to melt in the tightest embraces of all.

“I’m so proud of you,” Harry whispers and he’s crying, oh God the sap is crying with joy. “I love you.”

Louis can’t do anything but laugh. He starts laughing hysterically, tightening his grip on Harry’s body, pulling him impossibly closer.

“What is so funny, Lou?” Harry asks, pouting.

Louis wants to fucking kiss the shit out of him. “You. Me. This. I just fucking won the Grand Prix, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry nods and buries his face on the crock of his neck, pressing soft kisses against the material of his costume. “I’m so happy.”

“Happy?” Louis repeats and pulls from Harry’s curls a little. Harry leans back a bit, facing him. “Harry. Harry Styles, I won the Gran Prix, I spent last night being fucked by the prettiest boy, I have you… God, I could die right now and I will be happy.”

“Don’t die? Please,” Harry whispers quietly, blushing like a little baby.

"Dork, it was rhetorical. Fuck, I love you."

Just like that, while the paps take pictures of him and Liam and Niall are crying of happiness, hugging each other and yelling how lucky Mercedes AMG Petronas is, when Jay and Anne decide to forget their hate and embrace each other to celebrate Louis’s victory, when every single eye in Monaco is on Louis…

“Harry.”

He looks him into Harry’s eyes, and the world around them disappears. Harry smiles at him, nodding with the head, and Louis wonders how he could make it without his Harry.

“Do it,” Harry encourages him and it still amazes Louis how easily they can understand each other without words. “Just do it. I’m ready, I only need you.”

Louis smiles fondly, his body trembling with excitement and pure adrenaline.

Then slowly, hearing nothing but the frenetic beat of their hearts and seeing nothing but the adoration in Harry’s eyes… He kisses him.

Louis kisses Harry in front of every single soul alive and all the existing Gods.

He kisses him deep, passionate, holding onto him and trying to melt into one. He kisses him, wanting the world to know that Harry belongs to him and he belongs to Harry.

Louis wonders how mad Jay and Anne are going to be. He doesn’t bring himself to care, not anymore.

 


End file.
